


How Soon Is Now?

by trashvirgo



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Comfort, Dorks in Love, M/M, and i need to post it somewhere, i wrote an entire fic in october but i only really like this part, oblivious idiots, this is like right after the sewer fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14675910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashvirgo/pseuds/trashvirgo
Summary: After that fated sewer fight, two boys have some fated talks. Includes that classic "Richie comes through Eddie's window" trope that makes or breaks a reddie fic obviously.This is the first section of a ~40k fic I don't plan on uploading in full, but that might change.





	How Soon Is Now?

**Author's Note:**

> take a shot for every beep beep and youll be drunk in no time
> 
> anyway this is the first fic ive written in like 8 years and its just as bad when i was 12 and writing drarry nonsense, but please try to enjoy

The summer breeze gently blows the black curls away from Richie's eyes as he lazily works his bike pedals, and maybe it would have been comforting if he hadn't crawled out of the depths of hell about an hour ago. Well, if hell was filled with gray, disgusting water and dead, floating children.

Richie supposes he should've gone running home as soon as he stumbled out of the haunting sewers, but instead he found himself idly riding through Derry. Yes, he should've gone home, but it didn't feel right. Going home would make this day real; seeing his parents and his reflection and having dinner and going to bed would make today concrete.

He's unsure how he managed to ride throughout the town without crashing or hurting himself with how zoned out he is. The events of the day keep flashing throughout his mind. Each time the sneak in, he has to shake his head like an Etch-A-Sketch to reset, yet his mind keeps drawing the same images. 

Beverly floating just like a balloon. Ben screaming. Her eyes, oh god, her eyes. Her arctic skin freezing his own, like her state was contagious. She was lifeless, and he prays he'll never see her like that again.

Shake.

Stan's face soaked in blood and tears, screaming and screaming.  _"You're not my friends!"_ A knife digs through his heart at each strangled repetition, at the heartbroken expression. The pain in his eyes twists the knife in his heart. Torture. 

Shake.

The gun against Georgie's -no- It's forehead. The tears spilling down Bill's cheeks. Richie can't remember the last time he'd seen Bill cry. The shot rings out. The cold look of Georgie - _no_ \- It. Knowing that the body wasn't Georgie's didn't help when it looked so real, so human. He tries not to think of how Bill felt.

Richie shakes his head so hard that it finally pulls him out of his thoughts. He sighs and slows down his pedaling to a nice easy pace to take in his surroundings. This warm summer day has brought him down to the quarry, far away from his home. Well, not far enough, but it’ll do.

He hops off his bike and walks it over near the cliff the losers jump off, hoping to find another person here to provide some sort of company. Being alone is not what the doctor would prescribe. As he comes closer, he notices a figure sitting at the cliff’s edge and squints. He’s pretty sure he needs a new prescription. The figure becomes clearer with each step, and he makes out the small frame, neat hair, and clunky cast.

He pauses, glancing down at his bike. Should he bother Eddie? The boy hardly got any peace anyway due to his overbearing mother. Why would he try taking that away from him? But, what about what just went down? Wouldn't he want company just as badly as Richie?

He mulls this over for a few second, shrugs, tosses his bike down, and finishes walking over. Eddie looks up at Richie as he stands at the edge of the cliff, staring off into the horizon. He lets out a huff before glaring down at his hands.

“I’m not really in the mood, Richie.” Richie still stands there. “Serious, leave me alone.”

“With a face like that? There’s no way I’m leaving,” Richie says as he moves to sit next Eddie. He says it like a joke, but concern seems to drip in with it. Eddie takes note, a bit perplexed, before brushing it off as his mind playing tricks.

He glances over as Richie settles next to him, hanging his legs over the edge of the cliff and leaning all his weight on his arms. Richie’s eyes slip closed and a small content smile finds its way onto his face. Eddie stares at him for a few seconds as his chest rises and falls, the wind playing with the dark curls that have a mind of their own, and thinks that his friend almost looks beautiful in this moment.

Woah.

No, he doesn’t. He looks like trash, idiot. Stop being stupid.

“Eh, what’s up, Doc?”

Eddie is ripped out of his thoughts with Richie’s terrible impersonation of Bugs Bunny. He rolls his eyes, blushing a little at getting caught staring, and looks down towards the brilliant blue beneath them.

“Shut it. I’m thinking,” Eddie mumbles.

“Yeah, I can practically see the gears working.” Richie nudges him but is simply swatted away. “What are thinking about?” No response. “Alright, I’ll just go fuck myself then.” Eddie shoots him a look.

“Don’t you already do that?”

“Nah, usually your mom helps in that department.” Eddie just looks away again. “Really, what are you thinking about? It’s pretty obviously eating at you.” When Eddie doesn’t answer, Richie just keeps going. He can’t help himself.

“Eating you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, by the looks of it. It’s got a full course meal in its hand. Or plate, I should say. Yep, getting all its nutrients from the ol’ Kaspbrak.” He can see Eddie trying to fight off a smile, which only encourages him. “On the top of that food pyramid thing. Yessiree, Ed boy sure tastes nice. Oi, waiter! I’ll have some of what it’s having. A slab off the Edster himself, yes. Uh, maybe some…” Richie starts giggling to himself, and Eddie looks over quizzically. “Some E-Eddie…” More giggles interrupt the sentence again. “Some Eddie Spaghetti.”

Richie cracks up laughing at his own joke, bringing his hands to his face and kicking his legs, as Eddie groans and gives Richie a light shove, though smiling the whole time. Richie just keeps repeating “Eddie Spaghetti” to himself between laughter, coaxing some laughter out of Eddie, too.

“First of all,” Eddie says, after Richie has only barely calmed down, “you’re so stupid, and that was super dumb. Second, that’s not how the food pyramid works, and you’d know that if point one wasn’t true.” Richie starts mimicking Eddie, which earns a huff, that would’ve fooled Richie into thinking the boy is annoyed except the grin that is plastered on his face. “And third, stop calling me stupid shit. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“You thought it was funny, so I don’t care about anything you just said.”

Eddie flips the taller off as he just laughs. He grabs Eddie’s hand and lowers it, forcing himself to stop laughing. He doesn’t let go. He wonders what someone would think if they saw this, two boys sitting on a cliff holding hands. Eddie raises his eyebrows as Richie gives him a look that is as close to serious as he can probably get.

“Do you really want me to leave you? Because you’re not really acting like it.”

“Yes, I am,” Eddie scoffs, retracting his hand from Richie’s grip and removing his gaze from Richie’s. Richie just grabs at Eddie’s face, making him look at him. Eddie swallows, feeling a little uncomfortable from the eye contact and a little giddy from the fingers pressed into his cheeks. “D-did you hear me? Go away.”

“Yeah, I heard you, but it could use more emotion. You have to show me that you mean it. I’m not seeing the motivation.” Eddie just raises an eyebrow at Richie’s attempt to sound like a movie director. The boy in question shrugs and drops his hand. Eddie’s face feels cold now. “Eddie, I’ve known you for a hot second, okay? I can tell you wanna talk, so why don’t you just spill it already? Is it about…y’know?” Eddie hesitates before shaking his head. “Okay, then what is it?”

They sit in silence for a while longer, Richie searching Eddie’s face. Stubbornness covers all the hypochondriac’s features. Richie just sighs and turns back to the lake beneath them, resting his elbows on his knees and consequently his face in his hands. He crosses his legs, closes his eyes, and breathes in deeply. Eddie positions himself the same. Silence comfortably envelopes the two.

Eddie used to think it was strange when Richie didn’t talk and, while that crosses his mind, he finds he doesn’t mind the silence between them. Of course, everyone wants the trashmouth to shut up for one goddamn second, but once he does, they become nervous that something is wrong. And, sure, something is probably wrong with Richie to render him silent, but it never feels wrong to sit there with Richie and silence anymore. The quiet moments speak loudly enough.

Sometimes in the quiet, he feels like he can connect with Richie more, can almost read his mind. He knows that’s absolute garbage, but it just feels special. Sitting there now, on a cliff and in the same position barely five feet apart, he wonders what the other is actually thinking about. He wonders how different their thoughts; their lives could be when sitting like this. The longer he contemplates, the more muddled the lines between their personal lives becomes.

“Um,” Eddie begins, giving in. The directions his thoughts were heading were too existential for him to think about anymore. “Okay. So, you know how I stood up to my mom?” He sees Richie nod, unmoving otherwise. “Well, I’m just. Y’know. I’m worried.”

“Worried?” Richie cracks his eyes open and shifts so he’s facing his friend. “Worried about what?”

“Well, uh, just, y’know, stuff. Like consequences and whatnot.” Richie can see his friend clam up, and he rests a hand on Eddie’s knee. Eddie looks up into his eyes.

“Is that all?” Eddie frowns as Richie starts to smirk a little. “Just consequences? And whatnot?”

“Well, I don’t think you really get how she can get. She’s just so-"

“Overbearing? Oh, trust me, Eds, I know Mrs. K pretty well.” Eddie smacks the hand from his knee with a pointed look.

“Don’t call me that, and stop talking about my mom like that. Especially when we’re having a moment.” Richie raises his eyebrows and drawing a hand to his heart in mock shock.

“We’re having a moment?”

“Oh, you know what I meant, dipshit. Let me finish talking before you start up your stupid mouth.” Richie draws on a comical serious face and salutes to Eddie, opening his mouth to say something before being cut off. “God, I cannot stand you. Whatever, I’m done.”

Eddie stands up, brushing off his shorts and skin, before walking off. Richie sits there for a second before quickly following suite.

“Hey, wait up!”

“What do you want?” Eddie stops and turns around dramatically, sounding incredibly burdened by this exchange. “I said I’m done.”

“No, you’re not. C’mon, I promise I’ll stop.” Eddie gives him a look of _who do you think you’re talking to_. “For real. It’s not good for you to have all that shit floa- piling on up there in your noggin. Let’s just talk. No, no, wait. You’ll talk; I’ll listen.” Eddie just laughs at him. Richie throws on a dramatic hurt look. “What? I can listen.”

“Maybe, but you can’t shut up.” Richie rolls his eyes and picks up his bike before walking to the road and gesturing for Eddie to follow him. The shorter stands there for a moment before kicking at the ground with a disgruntled expression. “Okay, fine, promise you’ll stop, though?”

“I’m gonna say yes, but my mouth works on its own, so it’s not my fault if it does happen.” Eddie shrugs, deciding that was good enough, and starts walking with his friend down the road.

“Alright. So, like, I’m worried about the consequences because you know how my mother is. I’m not sure how all this standing up to her bullshit is going to pan out. I've never  stood up to her before, and this change is weird. It already feels wrong and awful. I feel like I should, I dunno, apologize to her?" He hears Richie groan at this but refuses to look at or acknowledge him. "She's my mother, and I love her obviously, but I meant what I said. I'm not used to telling her off or anything. I don't really want her to get mad at me, or, god forbid, even more passive aggressive than she already is. I don't know how to explain this well, I guess... I'm the doormat that gets walked all over and for that to change in one afternoon just doesn't feel like it's going to stick. It's going to go back to how it always was, and I don't want that... It feels like forever until I don’t have to be around her everyday.”

Eddie stops talking, staring at the ground as he walks. Richie can tell he’s just composing his thoughts so that he can continue, looking as if his deep in thought. His eyebrows are furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out slightly, and Richie inexplicably smiles softly at the sight. He gets the familiar feeling he should talk, but in an unfamiliar way than he usually gets this feeling. Instead of just aiming to fill silence with whatever first pops into his head, he feels compelled to try and help Eddie in any way possible. Which for Richie, he assumes is not many.

“Well,” he begins, and Eddie looks up, clearly disappointed that Richie couldn’t keep his promise for more than two minutes. “That’s reasonable. Your whole life is getting flipped around! The tables are turning. Of course, you're going to have complex feelings about this whole fiasco. You told Mrs. K off, man. Yelling and throwing shit and just up and leaving? Damn, you’re absolutely crazy. A complete fucking madman. Like, like…I don’t know. But, it’s kind of cool. Ballsy, one might say. Its, uh, kind of impressive. But, I mean, wanna know what might be even more ballsy?” Eddie shakes his head, amazed that Richie wasn’t pulling a voice or a dumb joke right now. “Facing your mom, and standing your goddamn ground, Kaspbrak.”

“I guess…” Eddie gives a small smile before looking back at the ground. “I’m just not sure… that I can right now. I don’t know. It just sounds stupid because, I mean, I just fought a demon clown in the sewer after standing up to my mom like two hours ago. Y’know, a bunch of brave shit.” Eddie heaves a sigh, and walks a little closer to Richie. “What if… What if I used all my bravery or whatever? What if that’s all I can do that’s brave ever?”

Richie stares in disbelief at his friend. Eddie is definitely one of the bravest people he’s ever known, and it is just unbelievable to him that anyone would think otherwise. However, Richie isn’t going to metaphorically jerk him off right now, figuring that just telling him he is wrong wasn’t going to fix the problem.

“Eddie, c’mon. You’re so brave. And so what if you’re done with being brave today? You don’t have to brave all the time, idiot. Just…Just when it matters. There’s gonna be more chances for you to brave in the future when it matters. Just because you don’t wanna go home doesn’t make you less brave. It makes you someone with a brain because I’ve seen Mrs. K in one of her episodes and oh man, that’s rough.” Richie nudges Eddie with his shoulder until the other looks up at him. “You don’t have to go home to your mom, y’know? You can stay with me tonight, Eds.” Richie waggles his eyebrows a little to make Eddie smile and succeeds.

“Don’t call me that.”

“There’s my Eds,” Richie shouts, letting go of his bike with one hand to sling an arm around the shorter boy, pulling him in close and ruffling his hair slightly. Eddie fights against this, shrieking slightly, before pushing away enough, though still in his arm, to glare up at the persecutor. “You’re too cute!”

Richie truly thinks Eddie looks cute in this moment. His hair is all messed up, his cheeks dusted with pink, and his eyes glaring up at Richie with little to no true malice in them. Richie just smiles widely and goes to pinch the boy’s cheeks before getting his hand slapped away.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles, trying to push his way out of Richie’s hold only to get squished farther into the taller boy’s side.

“He just doesn’t stop! This boy is on fire! I am getting seriously burned!”

Richie laughs at Eddie’s expression and leans over to push his glasses up with the hand that’s around Eddie. Eddie can’t stop his cheeks from getting darker at the proximity of Richie’s face and he’s confused as to why. Probably just the heat and potential germs. Either way, his face is gone as quickly as it came, and Eddie shoots a look away from the other in an attempt to hide his blush.

“I hate you,” Eddie says with absolutely no truth behind his words. Richie just grins and lets Eddie go. He pats the shorter boy on his head.

“Whatever you say, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Fuck off.”

“Really? Dare me? Right now?”

“N-no! What the fuck, Richie? Of course not!”

“I guess my hands are tied,” Richie says with a shrug, halting his stride to reach for the front of his pants. “A dare’s a dare.”

Eddie watches a second more completely dumbfounded as he actually unbuttons his pants before snatching him by the wrist to stop him. The bike falls like a barrier between them as Eddie gives him a dumbfounded look. Richie just cracks up and points at Eddie’s face, making the other self-conscious of his expression immediately. Eddie crosses his arms and starts walking again.

He knows that Richie is trying to make him feel better through his stupid brand of comedy, and it’s working more than he’d ever admit to anyone, but, damn, that boy just goes for the lowest hanging fruit. The fruit might as well be on the goddamn ground, rotting slightly and covered in bugs. As much as Eddie huffs and seemingly gets annoyed extensively at these jokes, he does find them endearing, though he'd never admit it. 

“C’mon, that was funny,” Richie rushes after the other boy after rebuttoning his pants and picking his bike up. He slaps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder that just gets shrugged off. “Okay, wow, I was expecting more of 'Richie, you’re a comedic genius, and that was hilarious,' but whatever floats your boat.”

Eddie cringes at the high-pitched voice that Richie used to imitate him. “Richie, you’re a comedic genius, and that was hilarious,” Eddie deadpans, staring emotionlessly at Richie who grins in return.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” Eddie rolls his eyes before glaring at the ground as they continued to walk. It’s silent, though not uncomfortable, for half a block before Richie taps his cast lightly. “Are you feeling better?”

Eddie looks up to catch the concern riddled in the magnified eyes from the coke-bottle glasses. Confusion washes over him. Is Richie really this concerned about him? He didn’t realize that Richie even cared about him more than Richie cares for the average Joe. Eddie chalks it up to Richie just feeling bad for him.

“Yeah.”

Richie smiles at this, and turns to look at the houses. They are a couple houses away from Eddie’s, and the dread settles back in at the thought of walking inside. He yelled at his mom and called out the “medicine” he’d been taking for his entire life for what it was: bullshit.

But he can’t help but feel awful for what he did to his mom because she only did it out of love. It was ass-backwards the method, but at the core, she truly cared for Eddie. This only made him feel guilty for hurting her the way he did. Sure, he is scared of the consequences, but he also doesn’t want to go home so he won’t have to face what he’d done. He won’t have to look into his mom’s eyes and see the pain in them that her son was disrespectful and most likely sick somehow. He is always sick somehow.

“Is this your stop?” Richie asks in some sort of British accent for a reason Eddie can’t understand. Eddie stares up at his house and inhales deeply. A now or never moment, he supposes. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Richie raises his eyebrows as if to ask _you sure_? Eddie forces a smile and shrugs. “No time like the present, I guess.”

“Cool. I’m proud of you,” Richie says with a wink, “for not pussying out. You go in there and knock ‘em dead, champ.” Richie claps his back like a proud father and Eddie rolls his eyes before walking up to his house. He pauses on the first step.

“Hey, Richie?” he calls, turning around to find the boy mounting his bike. Richie's curly hair flips away to reveal his big brown eyes, and Eddie sucks in a breath for an inexplicable reason as the sunlight casts a warm glow over the other boy's features. Eddie glances away as he toys with his edge of his cast nervously. _Why is he nervous?_ “Thanks.”

Richie flashes him a blinding smile before saying, “Anytime, lover boy.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Richie laughs before yelling a goodbye and riding off towards his house. Eddie turns back around and walks up towards his house, the smile slipping from his face as he remembers the dilemma he is currently facing. He pauses to take a deep breath at the door, resting his hand on the door knob. _You can do this, Eddie_ , a voice that sounds strangely like Richie encourages him. He exhales and opens the door to his home.

Richie allows his mind to wander again as he rides the rest of the way home. Eddie is incredibly worried for nothing, really. It isn’t like his mom is going to do anything much worse than locking him up, which isn’t even that bad considering the fact that the Losers Club would just sneak him out anyway. Though, it is awful that the boy is so afraid of his mother. What kind of mother instills such psychological fear into their child that they’re afraid to come home?

God, Eddie deserves much better. He is so much more than his mother thinks of him. He isn’t sick first off, and Eddie knows that, too. Richie is glad that he can finally see it, too. His mother also insists that Eddie is delicate, but Richie would argue again, especially after the events he had witnessed today in the sewer. A delicate boy would never yell, “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” at his biggest fear in the sewer whilst being covered in gunk. Eddie’s mom calls her son precious and well…Richie’s got to agree on this one.

Eddie, in his dumb short shorts and fanny packs, is truly precious. So short and small and cute and naïve. Richie thinks that it's incredibly adorable. And those giant Bambi eyes? Well, who could argue against those? He is incredibly passionate about his giant rants about germs and diseases. He can hold a bicker fest with Richie himself due to that sharp tongue and no-bullshit attitude, but he also has no clue about sexual things, due to living a sheltered life, that the gang loves to mercilessly try and explain in the most grotesque way.

Richie never gets tired of seeing his disgusted face. Or his annoyed face. Or his _why am I friends with you?_ face. Or just his face. Or his nose scrunching up. Or his eyes rolling. Or his eyes squinting when he smiles. Oh, his smile. Richie’s heart flutters.

Oh, wait.

Oh.

Oh, no.

 

* * *

 

Richie jolts up out of bed, gasping and clawing at his chest roughly. The darkness of his room greets him, and, although he isn’t fully comforted by this fact, he takes a deep, calming breath. His clawing hands slow down to clutch his large sleep shirt with both hands. A brief moment of calm before a wall of emotions slams into him. Warm tears slip down his cheeks, and he caves in on himself, sobbing heavily. He runs his hair through his hands roughly before gripping his head, pulling at his curls aggressively, so hard he feels like he’s going to rip his head open with sheer force.

The images from the sewer and the Neibolt house flash through his head. The clown…That damn clown is forever burned into his memory, that’s just a given. The menacing eyes, the white makeup, and the numerous teeth. Richie shivers at the thought. His skin is crawling with the fact that the clown’s face is tattooed into his mind. He sees the clown with a stake through its head making it more terrifying advancing on him and his friends. His breath catches in his throat, and he rubs violently at his eyes. The clown is gone from the room, but each time he blinks, he sees it again and again.

Richie sucks in shallow breaths before groping around his bed for his glasses that he knew he feel asleep in. Once he finds them, he slams them on his face, jumps out of the tangle of sheets, and grabs a large sweatshirt from the floor. He slips it on, shoves his feet in his shoes, and runs out of his room, not worried if his parents hear. They probably won't notice. Tears are still falling, and breaths are still shallow, but he sprints out into the cold night air.

He isn’t quite sure where he is going yet but starts walking anyway. He can’t stay in his room: not tonight, not alone. He didn’t feel safe, though he was at least ninety-five percent sure he was. Being alone was simply a call for danger. That thought has him checking over his shoulder sporadically. He tugs at the sleeves of his sweater, a nervous tick he began noticing he does more and more over the years.

Richie glances around his surroundings before stopping in front of his Eddie’s house. He stands there in the dim glow of the streetlight, chewing on his lip. Going into this house and into his friend’s arms will make him feel better, but is he okay with Eddie seeing him like this? Slightly hysterical and paranoid?

He sucks in a deep breath before wiping all around his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the tears and the redness knowing full well the latter is going to stick around. He exhales and stalks into the backyard, finding a couple pebbles and picking them up along the way. The window to his friend’s room looms overhead, and Richie contemplates just going back home before shaking that thought off and throwing a pebble up at the window before he can back down.

There’s no response. Richie huffs before throwing another. And another. He draws back to toss one more up when the window snaps open. He immediately stops his arm, stumbling slightly, and drops his rock onto the ground, looking up at the window. He blows some hair out of his face and stares into Eddie’s eyes as the other glares down at him. He's suddenly aware that he is not wearing pants and that maybe he's an idiot for doing this.

“What the hell are you doing?” he quietly yells, leaning out of the window with crossed arms. Richie smiles up at him. “It’s, like, one a.m., asshole! Don’t you sleep?”

“No way,” Richie teases, tugging at his sleeves absently. “Wait a second!” Eddie narrows his eyes as Richie gets down on one knee and extends his arms up to his friend. “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” Eddie rolls his eyes and flips him off. “It is the east, and Eddie Spaghetti is the sun!”

“Beep beep, Richie!” Eddie hisses though he's fighting a smile all the same. He watches with fond distaste as the Tozier boy falls to the ground laughing, but he can hear that the laughter isn’t genuine and begins to worry.

“Not into that? Well, I didn’t bring a fucking boombox,” Richie yells back. “Did you want me to serenade you with my lovely voice?”

“Can you just shut the fuck up? Why are you eve-” Eddie is cut off by Richie singing. A rather liberal use of that word, if Eddie is being honest.

“It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you!” Eddie groans and leans against the windowsill with a mantra of _oh my god_ falling out of his mouth. He covers his face with his hands, shaking his head as if to fight the blush that is creeping it's way onto his face. “There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do!”

Richie grins at how cute Eddie looks in this moment and _woah_. His voice cracks on the next line, and he can hear the quiet laughter Eddie is trying to hide behind the barrier of hands. Richie starts laughing, too, though trying to continue the song through it all. Eddie cuts him off before too long, clearly embarrassed and giving him the  _why am I friends with you?_ face that makes Richie's heart melt.

“Oh my god. Can you actually just shut the fuck up? What are you even doing here, Richie?”

“Just, uh, wanted to say hi to your mom.” Richie tugs at his sleeves and looks down. The other boy leans a little farther out of the window at this. This wasn’t like him at all. “Can I come in? It’s a bit…nippy out here.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and nods. “Whatever. Can you get up here? Like climb and shit?”

“Well, duh, I’m not an idiot.” Richie walks over to the side of Eddie’s house and looks up to find the other watching him with an amused look on his face.

“Debatable.”

“Ouch, Eds, I’m truly hurt.”

He clutches a hand to his heart, collapsing onto the side of the house. Eddie just rolls his eyes and tells him to hurry up before disappearing from the window. Richie scales the side of the house with a bit of help from a tree nearby and is crawling through the window in no time.

Closing the window, he looks around at the organized room, free of mess or dirt. He kicks his shoes off before walking over to the bed and sitting down. Eddie isn’t in the room, and although Richie has been here thousands of times, he still feels awkward in the other boy’s house especially with the other absent. He runs his hands along the smooth sheets, tugging lightly at the fabric. Maybe he should’ve just stayed home and not burdened his friend.

The door creaks as it swings open, and Eddie shuffles in carrying a blanket and glass of water. He tosses this blanket at Richie, takes a long drink of water, and sets the cup down. Richie hasn’t stopped tugging at the sheets, marring the neatly made bed in a way that personified his anxiety at the moment. Eddie looks over at him and those big brown eyes have words tumbling out of the taller boy’s mouth in an instant.

“Sorry for waking you up.” Eddie blinks.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t really… Um, sleeping isn’t going so well tonight. Just been lying in bed mainly.”

He shifts from foot to foot as he speaks, one of his nervous ticks. Richie notices this and offers a rare, small smile to the boy, who smiles back instinctively. It’s hard for him to not smile at one of Richie’s few calm moments.

“Well, let’s lay together then.” Eddie shakes his head and looks ready to protest that. An assumption that Eddie is about to offer to sleep on the floor has Richie anxious again. He chalks it up to his nightmare. “What? There isn’t really anything to do in the Kapsbrak abode. Unless you consider your mom.”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

Eddie shoves him lightly, and Richie takes this opportunity to grab his arm and pull him onto the bed. While Eddie sputters and tries to lift himself up, Richie takes no shortage of time to get himself comfortable, in the most over the top fashion, under the blanket on Eddie’s bed and the blanket he was given. The hypochondriac watches this with the hint of a smile on his lips before shaking his head and turning the lamp light off. Richie pats the unoccupied side of the bed impatiently. Eddie slips into bed with less of a show.

Richie shifts onto his side to stare at his friend and feels his heart flutter at the sight. The way the moonlight is pouring into the room and backlighting his friend is truly breathtaking. It seems as though he is outlined in a blue-white glow, giving him an almost angelic look. He doesn’t think Eddie could become more beautiful. He felt like his cheeks were heating up.

Damn, these thoughts really need to stop. Maybe it's just the trauma talking. Yeah, sure. Richie flips onto his back with a smile. This is probably some form of anxiety. He doesn’t feel like dishing it out too heavily tonight.

Whatever the case, he feels his anxieties from the night slipping away due to the presence of another human. It is slowly fading from his mind. Richie breathes out and closes his eyes, burrowing deeper into the blankets. He begins to drift off when a small hand grasps at his sweatshirt, pulling it towards him. He cracks on of his eyes and glances over at Eddie, who is staring at him with wide eyes.

“You doing okay?” Richie mumbles, drowsiness seeping into his voice. Eddie tightens his grip. The trashmouth raises his eyebrows at this, blinking slowly.

“I can’t sleep.”

The voice is small and quiet, which makes Richie feel bad. He sympathetically pats the hand gripping his sweatshirt twice and shoots a concerned look towards his friend.

“Well, I can,” Richie says, making a show of closing his eyes as Eddie scoffs at him and pulls his hand away.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I’m joking, Eds,” Richie snickers, turning to his side so he could look at his friend’s disgruntled face. He props his head up with his elbow and grabs the smaller boy’s hand, staring down at the appendage. He begins tracing the lines in his palm as he speaks. “You wanna talk or anything?”

“I’m not sure. It’s a lot. And don’t call me that.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got nothing else to do unless your mom is awake.”

Richie glances up at his friend with a smirk and laughter brimming in his eyes. Eddie just stares at him for a good five seconds before letting out an exasperated breath.

“Okay. Wow. I’m going to bed.”

He moves to turn onto his other side, but Richie grabs his shoulder, keeping him firmly in place. He moves his hand up to lightly grab Eddie’s face and make him look at the other. Both of their faces turn pink at the touch.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m joking again,” Richie says softly, running his fingers gently over Eddie's warm cheeks. Eddie pulls his eyes away as his face burns even warmer.

“What a surprise,” Eddie grumbles, furrowing his brow and scowling. Richie lightly smiles at the annoyed tone and taps the boy’s cheeks with his fingers lightly.

“Hey, I’m listening. I’m not making you talk, but maybe it’d be easier for you if you did is all. Of course, we could just talk about this later. We have the rest of our lives.”

They lay there in silence for a moment. Richie hums softly, closing his eyes and dropping his hand from Eddie’s face. He stretches his arms out, invading Eddie’s personal space, and pulls them back to his chest. Eddie finds himself missing the warmth from the trashmouth’s presumably dirty hand. He sighs and grabs Richie’s sweatshirt again, picking at a loose thread.

“I’m just scared, y’know?” Richie nods slowly with his eyes still closed. “I’m scared that this isn’t… That we didn’t… What if- was that really it? Like this seems too easy, I guess. We killed It- well, we probably did- and what do we do now? Just go back to what we were doing before we got all wrapped up in all this supernatural bullshit? I mean, isn’t everything changed? Can we even…Will everything go back to normal? It feels impossible.”

“Well, normal is relative, Eddie spaghetti, but no.”

Richie opens his eyes and finds a large pair already staring at him. They are filled with confusion and desperation. Something swells in Richie’s heart, and he feels compelled to replace those feelings with those of happiness. He sighs and grabs Eddie’s hand, pulling it away from his sweatshirt and interlocking their fingers.

“I don’t think things are going back to normal. Well, maybe some things, I guess, like my jokes and nights with your mom-” Eddie rolls his eyes, “-but I don’t know anything for sure. Everything could just be normal or whatever, or everything could be completely awful and different. That’s a bridge we don’t have to cross right now, y’know? That’s the future; we’re in the present. Maybe let’s not worry about it tonight, okay?”

The small smile and comforting eyes are too much for Eddie. He’s been thinking too hard for too long about this, and that can’t be the answer. Just not worry about it? Idiotic. Tears brim at his eyes in sadness or frustration, he can’t really tell.

“It isn’t that simple, Richie,” he says with a sigh as a tear slips down his face. Richie frowns. He brings their still entwined hands up and wipes the tear away with the back of Eddie’s hand. “It can’t be that simple. Just-just 'let’s not worry?' That’s not possible. All I do is worry!”

The words tumble out of his mouth quickly as his frustration grows. He stares into Richie’s eyes and realizes the idiot is still wearing his glasses. They’re pressed against his face, distorting the image by pulling at his skin in funny ways. He smiles faintly at this small fact, a certain fondness washing over him. It’s unbelievable how Richie always makes him feel better even when he doesn’t open his mouth and crack a joke.

“I didn’t say forever, dumbass. Just not for this moment. This night. Look, I’m here, aren’t I?” Richie makes a vague motion to the bed with the hand still holding Eddie’s. “I’m sure you’re all in your head about whether us Losers are gonna all still be friends, right?” Eddie hesitates and nods his head. “Well, I’m at least, like, ninety-five percent sure we will be because who-who comes out of this fucked summer and says, 'man, y’know what I’d like to do now? Ditch all my friends.' That’s just dumb, Eds. And then, even if all those fuckers ditch us, which they totally won’t because, I mean, look at us,” Richie bops the boy on his nose, making him roll his eyes at this even with a small smile playing at his mouth, “we still got each other.

“Like c’mon, dipshit. I’m not going anywhere, which means you’ll have one friend, so why are you so worried? The future is so far away, stop being dumb because you can’t see it. It’s supposed to be a mystery and what good is a mystery when you know what’s gonna happen? Like, who cares if stuff goes back to normal? Not me.”

Richie pauses to take a breath, opens his mouth to speak again, but apparently thinks better of it. He closes his mouth with a smug look on his face, like he just gave a powerful speech in front of millions. Eddie just stares at him dumbfounded. He blinks slowly before grinning because his friend is so dumb, yet oddly comforting.

“Thanks, trashmouth.” Richie breaks into a smile that is so infectious Eddie catches it, too.

“Anytime, Eds,” he says. “However, a boy does need his beauty sleep.”

"I can tell." 

"Excuse me?"

Richie scoffs and pulls a face of mock offense that has them devolving into a fit of laughter, pushing at each other lightly and sticking their tongues out. Their hands separate in this tomfoolery, which both of them notice but make no moves to remedy. The laughter begins to die down and Richie removes his glasses with a dramatic flair, passing them to Eddie with a snobbish look.

Eddie chuckles at the theatrics, leaning over to put the glasses on his bedside table as Richie gets comfortable yet again. When Eddie flops back into bed, Richie can barely make out his silhouette anymore, and he sighs. He can no longer admire the beauty that is his male friend, and he refuses to acknowledge that though any further.

He goes to turn over when a small hand yet again grabs his sweatshirt. This time, however, it attempts to pull the boy closer to him, not making much progress. Richie can't stop the swell of his heart or the pull at his mouth and scoots closer to his friend, pulling him into his arms with a smile of pure joy splitting his face. This close, with his bad vision, Richie can see the blush on his friend’s cheeks and grins. He holds Eddie in his arms, head to his chest for the rest of the night. What feels like a long time passes before he hears a yawn and feels two small hands squeeze his sides.

“Night, Richie.”

Richie’s heart flutters for what seems like no reason. He closes his eyes and squeezes back.

“Night, lover boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i should upload the rest, but maybe this is the only good part
> 
> (ps mrs k is a heavy sleeper in my mind okay)
> 
> (pss richie and eddie have unintelligible bad dialogue bc theyre stupid 13 year olds and not because im a stupid 19 year old who cant write dialogue)


End file.
